Impartial Until Proven Otherwise
by Arushinchu
Summary: Stuck in a town where you either love or hate pirates, which side will James Turner be swayed to, and who'll do the swaying?
1. Default Chapter

A/N- Greetings, fellow PotC lovers, and welcome to... MY PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN FIC! ***insert dramatic and unnecessary music here***

Yes, I have stepped out of the realm of anime from which comes most of my few other works of fanfiction to bring you... A PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN FIC! ***more dramatic and unnecessary music***

Blink.

Gotta get that fixed.

Anyways, back to the matter at hand.  In trying to avoid the oft-used "Woman-meets-Jack, Jack-falls-for-Woman" plot structure (and don't get me wrong, there are some good ones out there, I've seen 'em with my own eyes), I have chosen to make the main character of my story a boy.  Yes, he's male.  No, he's not a legal adult yet.  No, this is not a slash and/or rape fic.  Hopefully, I still have your interest.  Now, since every story has to have a little twist to make it different (or perhaps, more like the others, since all stories try to put in a twist), the main character has a disability.  It shouldn't be too hard for you to figure out what it is.  Now, go read the story and when you're done, I would be a happy camper if you left a review.  Constructive criticism will be welcomed with open arms.  Flames shall be used to spark my imagination… or something along those lines, I dunno.  Thanks, and enjoy!  ^^

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Chapter 1

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It's amazing how much you can learn about something when you shut your mouth and listen for a moment.

The vast majority of people choose, instead of fully understanding a given subject, to merely glean information (however slight) about it from some random and perhaps unreliable source and vocalize their opinions without true knowledge of said subject.  

Speaking and listening (listening leading to understanding), become two completely separate things, instead of the two coinciding acts of humanity that they were once meant to be.  Me, I don't have to choose between speaking and listening.  Listening comes naturally.  But that is, again, just me.

As I was saying; pirates are one such highly debated subject.  How many of these people have actually seen a pirate?  Met one?  Sat down and shared a drink with one?  Granted, that would be rather difficult, since it seems the few who have met pirates have met them out on the open seas with little protection and lots of "loot." 

Those who have met pirates have my respect.  They truly know the many, or few, faces of pirates.  My parents are two such people.  My siblings, unfortunately, are not.

-James Turner, 23rd day of the 8th month

_Scritch scritch scritch.  _Sigh.  _Clap._  

_James Turner.  Thirteen years old, and keeping a diar- JOURNAL! Journal, yes, journal.  Good god, what have I become?_  

Standing up beside my trunk, I slide my journal beneath my bed.  An evening ritual, that.  I write a lot in the blasted thing, but I try not to admit to myself that I enjoy it.  Unfortunately, it's about the only way I can voice my own thoughts and opinions.

"IS NOT!"

"IS TOO!"

"Well, you're just stupid!"

"Says the little girl with an imaginary parrot on her shoulder!"

Sigh.  My afore mentioned siblings.  Maybe if I stay in my room, I can avoid getting pulled into one of their arguments.

My name is James Martin Turner.  My parents are William and Elizabeth Turner, two of the few people who have my respect in this bloody seaport town.  At least they HAVE met pirates, unlike my siblings who, of course, take no better pleasure than in arguing about them.  

"Are you accusing me of being daft?!"  My little sister, Rebecca.  She's been obsessed with pirates since she was old enough to understand (vaguely) the stories our parents would occasionally read to us about them.  Little body with a shrill voice much too loud to issue forth from it.

"Oh, excuse me, are you saying you aren't?!"  My older brother, William (or Bill).  Seventeen, and despises pirates more than just about anything else.  His hero is Vice Admiral Norrington, from whom he has adopted the phrase "Short drop and a sudden stop" for all pirates.  I don't think he's yet forgiven our parents for their choice of his middle name; "Jack," after a pirate captain they knew several years back.

But right now their voices are beginning to fade as they move down the hall.  I walk over to my door, open it slowly, and peak out.  Just in time to see them turn a corner, still arguing.  I slip out of my room, shutting the door as quietly as possible, and promptly head in the opposite direction, leading me down the stairs.  

I can hear clanking in the kitchen.  Mother must be preparing dinner.  So to the kitchen I go, perhaps for a bit of a snack.  Pausing in the doorway, I wait for my mother to take notice of me.  Her back is to me, though, so she hasn't become aware of my entrance.  I cough slightly for her attention, and she turns around.

"Hello, James dear."  My mother smiles brightly at me, and I smile and nod my head politely at her.  My mother immediately looks suspicious.  "I know exactly what you're here for, James Turner, and you are NOT spoiling your appetite."  I adopt a frustrated frown and cross my arms.  "Pouting will get you nowhere, James.  Though setting the table may get you dinner a bit sooner."  I heave an over dramatic sigh (I seem to do that a lot in this house, for some reason) and walk dejectedly over to the silverware, counting out forks and knives and such for five and setting them on the table, then grabbing plates and putting them there as well.  I sit down at my place after accomplishing my task and just watch Mother.  

"They're nothing but dirty, rotten, thieving scoundrels, Rebecca!  When are you going to learn that for yourself?"  Mother and I both wince as brother and sister find their way to the stairs and begin to descend.  Apparently their argument has yet to find an ending.

"But that's the intrigue, Bill!  Pirates; roguish, handsome, devil may care scoundrels who go on exciting adventures, steal from the pompous rich, meet all sorts of exotic people!  High seas romances, deeds of derring-do-"

"YOU have read from Mother's books one time too many, sister!"  Bill and Rebecca have entered the kitchen.  And I'm still in it.  While they're arguing.  Goodie.

"Children, CHILDREN!"  Mother nearly has to yell to gain their attention.  I lean forward in my seat, propping my head up with my hand, arm planted firmly on the table.  Time to hear today's _Stop Arguing or Else _lecture.  "What have I told you about arguing?"

"It's not MY fault, mother.  If Rebecca would just grow up-"

"If Bill would just understand that pirates can be good men-"  And now, at the same time:

"If JAMES would just take my side so that more people would support MY opinion than his/hers-" And here they point at each other while turning their heads simultaneously to glare at me.  I raise an eyebrow and smile benignly, waving a hand at them in an unconcerned fashion.

_Don't even BEGIN trying to pull me into another one of YOUR arguments._

"Arguing AGAIN?  Don't you two ever quiet down for even a moment?"  Everyone turns around at this.  Father has just entered the house.

"William!  A little help?"  Mother asks exasperatedly, gesturing to Bill and Rebecca.

"Both of you; sit down, QUIET down, and eat your supper."

"But-"

"No buts!"  Bill and Rebecca both adopt faces similar to the one I pulled when I didn't get my before dinner snack, and they sit down, Bill beside me and Rebecca across.  Father walks over and gives Mother a quick kiss.

"I don't know how you do that."  Mother whispers.  Father winks at her before sitting down at the head of the table.  Mother takes the seat by Rebecca, sitting between her and Father, and we say our evening prayer before beginning our meal.  

I, personally, am neutral on the issue.  Having never met pirates, and being subject to stories both of their exciting adventures and evil exploits, I have difficulty deciding which side to take.  So I take neither.  No point in taking one until I actually MEET a pirate, anyway.  That's my logic and I'm sticking with it.  Who knows?  If Rebecca and Bill ever meet pirates, they might go to opposite ends of the issue.  You just can't predict these sorts of things.  Seeing is believing, as a wise person once said.  

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Dinner has long ago ended.  The residents of the house have retired to their rooms for the night.  I am no exception.  I sit on my bed, gazing out the window into the clear, starry skies.  It is a quiet night in the Caribbean.  

_..._

_Pirates..._

_What's so great about them, anyway?_


	2. Introducing CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow

Title: Impartial Until Proven Otherwise

By: Arushinchu (formerly Aru)

Disclaimer (and this counts for chapter 1, as well): I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean.  I don't own Disney.  I write because there's this little thing in my head that won't stop whispering story ideas… I think it's a mouse or a crayon or something… anyways, the point is, don't sue!

A/N: Hey everyone!  For some reason ff.net refuses to upload a couple of the italicized parts of this chapter.  Just letting you know in advance, hopefully it won't confuse anyone.

I also wanted to clear one thing up if anyone gets curious as to the whole "Vice Admiral Norrington" bit.  Vice admiral is a position three points up from Commodore and two points below the highest rank in the navy: Admiral of the Fleet.  Although looking back on this I probably could've upped Norrington's rank by one and it would've worked out fine.  But I've already chosen to make him a Vice Admiral.  So for now, I'll just keep it like that.

Dee14- Nice catch.  I was wondering if anyone would notice that.  I'd like to cite the traditional "You're my parent, so you don't count." excuse that some people use in similar real life situations.  Will's children don't see him as a pirate now, so they don't count him as one in their arguments and little mental ponderings (hope that made sense O.o; ).  Although they do believe the stories he tells them about his adventure with pirates, and of his father being one (although William the 3rd (Bill) is probably in denial about that).

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my story so far!

Now, on to chapter 2!

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Chapter 2

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Hm.  Seems to be raining outside.

What is there to write about that hasn't already been written multiple times in the past several months?  There is nothing exciting in Port Royal.  I have no romances, no stellar conversations (ha!), no curious happenings to write of.  Yes, I could write of average, everyday events.  Today, Mother made oatmeal for breakfast.  Oo lala.  But such worthless little tidbits of information consume journal pages and leave little room for the important matters.

…

Not that there's anything important happening in Port Royal.

This town could stand a little livening-up.

-James Turner, 30th day of the 8th month 

_Clump Clump Clump._  It's another quiet, uneventful day here in Port Royal.  Why did mother and father choose to live in some dull little port town out in the middle of who-knows-where (oh, right, the Caribbean), where the only thing to do is go up and down the stairs?  Maybe that's exaggerating the point.  I could go to the market.  Yes, the market.  Maybe something interesting will happen ther-

"GOOD GOD!  YOU'RE NOT SERIOUS!!!"

Blink.

That would be my brother.  Something seems to have marginally upset him.  A loud squeal follows almost immediately after Bill's words.

"JACK SPARROW?!  Are you serious?!"

"Your daughter is a bit-" cough "friendly there, Will."

"Rebecca!"

"You ARE serious!  This is illegal!  Fraternizing with pirates!  If the Vice Admiral could see this now-"

Hello, what's this?

Everyone seems to have gathered downstairs.  Mother, Father, Bill, and Rebecca all turn to look up as I pause in my descent of the staircase.  As does a strange man who I don't recognize, who seems to be in a rather compromising position. Rebecca is holding him with a death grip around his middle.  I'm guessing it's supposed to be an over-enthusiastic hug.  She lets go with a sheepish grin.  

Back to the stranger, though.  Don't think I've seen THIS man around town before.  Unkempt black hair, torn clothes.  Looks like he hasn't seen a decent bath in years.  Although he IS soaking wet, no doubt from the rain outside, which has just recently come to an end.  No, he couldn't live in this area.  He would have been arrested for disturbing the public with his unruly appearance.

...

I like his hat.

"Hello there, son.  Have you met our guest yet?"  Father asks me.  I roll my eyes.

Yes, I have met him, actually.  It all started twenty years ago, when I was but a lad just out of my adolescent years with all the money in the world to fill my pocket but naught to fill the gaping hole in my heart...

Of course I haven't met him.  I've been in my room for the past couple hours.  But since I can't SHARE my witty retort without a scrap of parchment and a decent quill, I just cock my head to one side curiously and descend the stairs.

"Captain Jack Sparrow at your service, mate."  The man grins toothily at me when I walk up to the group.  Shiny is the word for it.  He has a few chunks of gold in his mouth fashioned in the shape of teeth.  I hold out my hand.  He blinks and stares at it for a moment, hesitating before taking and shaking it.

"Mr. Sparrow is the captain of the Black Pearl, James."  Mother says.  I already knew that.  The Black Pearl is a famous enough pirate ship.  Not to mention tales of this particular pirate captain and the exploits of him and my parents have been the subject of many a night's bedtime story.  Before Bill started throwing girlish screaming fits every time the word "pirate" was said within hearing distance, that is.  Explains the conflicting cries of my siblings.  I nod my head, deciding to be civil until I can gauge this man's nature.  After all, my father has said that some pirates, Jack in particular, can be good men.  No reason not to give this Captain Jack Sparrow the benefit of the doubt-

"James, is it?  Good name.  It suits you.  But why don't you say anything, lad?  Someone cut out your tongue?"  I stiffen almost immediately.  Apparently, pirates have very little in the way of tact.  Jack doesn't notice my annoyed frown at first and winks up at my parents like it's some sort of joke.  Everyone else has also gone quiet.  Now he notices, and he looks around at the sullen faces.

"Was it somethin' I said?"  he asks, genuinely confused.

"Our son…"  Mother began, trying to phrase her next words as carefully as possible.  Father sighs, apparently deciding to get the information out in the open without euphemisms.

"He's mute, Jack.  Can't say a word."  Jack pauses, and his confused look changes to one of muted shock. For a split second.  But he doesn't APOLOGIZE, no no, a foolish grin find it's way across his face, he spreads his arms wide, and he just has to open his mouth and say-

"Well that's great, then!  I'm sure Ol' Cotton will be glad to meet another mute!"  Oh, yeah, that just made things MUCH better.  You want to know how impressed I am with you right now, pirate?  I throw the captain a mock salute before marching right on past him and to the door.

"James-" Mother calls.  

Goodbye, Mister Sparrow.  

Open door.  Exit house.  Slam door shut.  That's how impressed I am with you right now.


	3. Adventures in Guilt Driven Shopping

A/N- Wow, nothing but positive reviews so far!  I'm glad everyone's liking the fic!  There's going to be a switch from 1st person present to 3rd person past tense near the end of the chapter, to show what happened while James was out of the house.  Just lettin' you know.  Also, once again fanfiction.net refuses to upload part of my writing in the italicized form I originally had it.  I don't know why.  The writing's still there, but it's not italicized.  Odd… Anyways, on with the show!

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Chapter 3

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Storming out of the house, the weather seems to belie my discontented nature.  So many of the stories I have read have had the weather reflect the mood of the main character.  In that case, I should be bloody well beaming.  The sun has emerged from a set of sinister looking rain clouds, which are rapidly fading off into the distance.  If weather in the Caribbean isn't volatile, I don't know what is.  

_Perhaps I was a bit hasty..._

Yes, I shouldn't have reacted like I did.  There have been many times when people have assumed that I could speak, when they have been insulted when I didn't reply to their words.  More than once I have been slapped in the face before someone can explain my lack of speech.  Not pleasant.  I'd like to say I'm used to it.  But it still stings every time I'm reminded of my inability to speak.  It's like an old wound getting reopened right before it's fully healed.  

I should get something.  An apology present of sorts.  For my parents of course, not Sparrow.  I'm going to the market anyway, I may as well use this trip to express my regret over my actions… my parents can't be too happy with me right now.

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So here I am in the market place.  All around me, vendors are hawking their wares.  Collectors prowl the streets desperately, in search of that one elusive item that will bring them riches beyond their wildest dreams.  Women walk daintily down the streets (escorted by fathers, brothers, and husbands), many to seamstresses and dress shops.  How can they stand this humid post-rain heat in those dresses?  I catch myself ogling at one young lady's clothing in particular; a heavy dress of dark burgundy.  She sends me a rather nasty look as she marches past.  I snort to myself in amusement.

_Don't flatter yourself, Miss.  Wouldn't come near you with a ten-foot pole and a bandana over my eyes._

It's about an hour before sunset.  I should return home before darkness falls, lest my parents commence fretting over my state of health.  I amble down the streets, pausing here and there to examine the goods of the merchants.  A necklace catches my eye that I'm sure my mother would fancy, unfortunately, I don't have enough money in my pocket for it.  I'll have to remember to pack around more shillings next time I'm out and about.  I pause at a spice shop.  This must be a fair thriving business, because the shop isn't placed in a stall on the side of the street, but in an actual building.  Curious, I walk inside.

My eyes and nose are immediately assaulted by the sight and smell of spices.  Seasonings; sweet, salty, and zesty surround me, so pungent that I can nearly taste them in the back of my throat.  There are a few people roving the shelves set up along the walls.  I join them and wander around the store, avoiding the scrutinizing gaze of the shop keep behind the counter.  Finally, when all other options are exhausted, I walk up to the front to gaze at the spices contained in glass-enclosed shelves beneath the merchant's counter.

"Evenin', sir."  Declares the salesman, a middle aged gentleman with thinning hair.  "Looking for anything in particular?"  I shake my head distractedly.  "Then allow me to suggest some of our fine wares for you.  We have a sale on cinnamon, quite a treat for those with a sweet tooth, goes good with warm milk.  Just got in a shipment of cayenne pepper from Mexico of all places, so you can imagine it's had quite a trip.  Never the less, we have it set at a reasonable price-" Merchant-man continues rattling off different exotic spices 

"-jerk, a mix of several spices, though the blending of them is an idea native to the area, there's a sale on that as well at the moment.  It's excellent on meats.  I, personally, enjoy it on chicken-"  I look up at this.  Hmmm, mother is planning on cooking chicken tomorrow, perhaps that would be the best for a present.  The salesman doesn't notice my sudden interest and continues listing off spices.  I tap the counter to get his attention.

"Ah, have you decided, sir?"  Now how do I get him to understand I want that jerk spice?  I wave my hands in the air, trying to indicate that I want one of the spices he said previously.  Merchant-man looks confused.  "'Fraid I don't understand what you're tryin' to tell me, sir.  Can't you just speak it aloud?  Ah, I beat it's the cayenne!  It's the cayenne, isn't it?  I always said cayenne was the best spice in the business-"  I shake my head. "No?  Rock salt!  Not that either?  Errr…"  I am so close to pounding my head against the counter right now.  Wait!  Paper!  My salvation has arrived!  I tap the paper and mime writing.  Merchant-man hands me a quill and I scrawl "jerk" on it.

"Well!  There's no need for name-calling, sir!  If you don't like me, you don't have to- oh, you mean the spice!  Right then, how much would you like?  Three shillings for half a pound- too much?  Well, how much do you have?"  I pull one shilling out of my pocket and put it on the counter.  "…Ah.  Well, we don't usually go beneath a fourth of a pound, wait a moment, let me see-"  Merchant-man walks into a room behind him.  What else can I do but wait?  A few moments later, he walks out with a small bag.  He grabs a scoop and proceeds to a nearby barrel, measuring out enough of the spice to fill the bag while allowing it to close properly.  He comes back to the counter and hands me the bag.

"Pleasure doin' business with you, sir."  He says, smiling while he tosses my coin in his box.  I nod and walk out the door.  

THAT took bloody long enough.  That little voice in my head that indicates thought goes into an overly falsetto impersonation of Merchant-man's voice: "I don't understand what you're tryin' to tell me, sir," "Can't you just speak it aloud?"  "We don't usually go beneath a fourth-" Oh, wait, I don't need to mock him for that last one, he was just doing his job, informing me of that. 

Well, at least it's over.  Hmm, seems I've lost track of time, the sun's already set.  Stars are slowly beginning to emerge and the moon is beginning its nightly jaunt across the sky.  But it's not that late, the sun probably just went beneath the horizon five or ten minutes ago.  My parents won't be worrying much yet.  At any rate, it's back home I go.

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3rd person view

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"I'm sorry Jack.  James doesn't particularly enjoy being reminded of his inability to speak."  Will was the first to interrupt the awkward silence that filled the room after James' departure.  Jack waved a hand in the air dismissively.

"Think nothing of it, mate.  But the kid's goin' to have to learn to deal with it someday.  Acts such as the one he just pulled will no doubt seem childish to many before long."

"They seem rather childish now."  Bill muttered under his breath.  

_Clap! _

"OW!"  Bill's comment had earned him a smack in the back of the head.  The dark glare he had lined up for the person who hit him dissipated quickly when his mom made eye contact with him.  Elizabeth turned back to Jack.

"So, Jack-" Jack heaved an over dramatic sigh.

"Are EITHER of you EVER goin' to refer to me by my rightful title of Captain?"  Bill snorted softly. Elizabeth stared at Jack for a moment.

"As I was saying, Jack, what brings you to Port Royal?"

"That's right!  It's really dangerous for you here, isn't it?"  Rebecca piped up, looking at Jack Sparrow with nothing less than adoration in her eyes.  "What with the hanging incident seventeen years ago?"

"Ah, well, you see, that's the thing."  Jack said, winking at Rebecca.  "Seventeen years is a long time, luv.  What are the odds that our dear Commodore-"

"That's Vice Admiral." Bill gritted out, not delighting in speaking to a pirate.

"Vice Admiral now, is it?  So he's been promoted?"  Jack asked boredly, plainly uninterested in this new bit of information.  "Well then, what are the odds that our dear _Vice Admiral _is going to remember one humble pirate out of the many he has most likely seen in his long and successful career, eh?"

"Actually, the odds are quite good."  Will said.  "I believe he still holds a grudge against you, Jack."  Jack smirked.

"He has much to hold a grudge against.  After all, I AM a dashing, handsome, roguish pirate captain with a sharp wit and a fine hat to boot-"

"That's not what I meant Jack, and you know it.  You still haven't answered the question.  Why are you here?"  Jack put his hands together and frowned.

"You don't think I'm a dashing, handsome, roguish pirate captain with a sharp wit and a fine hat to boot?  Tch, very well then.  I'll tell you why I'm here.  Came to pay my respects."  Will looked confused.

"Your respects?"

"Well, I couldn't very well have shown up for your wedding, now could I?  That was only a few months after my grand escape from the good Admiral's clutches.  Yes, I knew it took place soon after my flight from the law, you'd be surprised the sort of information carried in fellow pirate vessels.  I attempted to find time to stopover in Port Royal once more for a visit and perhaps a chance to see the children you two would no doubt have, seeing's how you would want to prove to me that you are, indeed, not a eunuch-" At this point Bill was glaring darkly at Jack, while Rebecca's eyes were shining, 

"However, a pirate captain's life is nothing if not busy, searching for the next great treasure and all that, and I'm sorry to say I lost track of time.  So, here I am now, seventeen years later, arriving under cover of heavy tropical rain WHICH, I'll be so bold as to add, I had to trek through for a bloody hour since I couldn't dock my ship right out in public and allow myself a walk that would have only taken me a few minutes-"

"Where did you make berth?"  

"'Fraid I don't have the pluck to tell you that, mate.  What with the little law monger here, who would more than like pass the information on to his lord and saviour the Admiral.  No offense to you two of course, I'm sure you did your best raising him-" Bill bristled.

"LAW MONGERER, am I?  I'll have you know-"

"What is it with you lot and interrupting me before I can finish speaking?" Jack asked, annoyed. Bill opened his mouth to continue speaking, but Elizabeth cut him off.

"Well, as it's getting on in the evening, I'm sure you would be looking for a place to sleep, Jack?"  Bill looked at his mother like she had just asked Jack to take him on the _Black Pearl_ itself.  Rebecca looked like Christmas had just come early.

"Can Captain Sparrow stay here, Mother?"

"NO!"

"I wasn't asking you, Bill!  Shut up!"

"I'll have you respect your elders, you brat!"

"Elder my foot, you're my brother and what's more, you're only six years older than me!"

"That affords me status!"

"STATUS?!  You want to know what I think of your STATUS-"

Bill and Rebecca continued arguing.  Will and Elizabeth raised their eyes to the ceiling as if praying for some higher power to intervene.  Jack looked over at the couple and pointed to their children.

"Do they always go on like this?"

"Yes, unfortunately."  Will muttered.  Jack nodded slightly and raised his voice so the two arguing siblings would be able to hear him,

"Well, Elizabeth, as much as I WOULD like to stay-" The two stopped arguing and looked over at Jack.  "I'm afraid I can't.  Best leave town under cover of darkness, savvy?  Though I'm much obliged for your veiled invitation-"

"Nonsense, Jack.  You're soaking wet and have an hour's trek ahead of you.  You'll stay here for the night."  Will said decisively.  Jack blinked and extended his arms.

"Well, that's very nice of you, Will me boy, but I can't just leave in broad daylight all by my onesy.  A noose is the last thing I want around my neck again."

"I'm sure we can afford you some disguise, or if nothing else you can leave tomorrow night.  But Will does have a point, Jack.  You'll be chilled to the bone and will no doubt contract some horrible sickness trying to find your way back to your ship in the dark."

"Well, if you insist then."  Jack said, waving a hand in the air.  Will and Elizabeth looked mildly surprised that Jack had given in so easily.  Rebecca started hopping up and down.

"Yay!  We're going to have a pirate for company!"  Bill wore a look of disgusted defeat.

"Excuse me while I barricade myself in my room."  He muttered, stomping up the stairs to perform said task.

"Now there's just the question of which room you'll be staying in.  We can't have you sleeping in the sitting room after all, it's not proper…"


End file.
